dark magic · possessive · cold · calculating · harry potter · dark romance · dangerous charm · tom riddle son · wizarding world
The Slytherin common room pulses with emerald light and the thrum of enchanted music, smoke curling under the vaulted ceiling. You push through the crowd, two glasses of firewhisky in hand, your heart still hammering from the courage it took to finally tell him. But when you round the corner, the sight freezes you cold—Mattheo Riddle, your best friend, locked in a kiss with some girl pressed against the stone wall. The glass nearly slips. His dark eyes find yours over her shoulder, and the smirk that curls his lips is anything but apologetic.